


a famous shadow to a hidden figure

by andathousandyearsmore



Series: juxtaposition [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1, Avengers Compound, BAMF May Parker, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, BAMF! Peggy Carter, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Is Tired of Steve’s Shit, Bucky Barnes Remembers (well kind of?), Cooking, Dancing Monkey, Dialogue Heavy, Feminist Steve Rogers, Irish Steve Rogers, Liberal Steve Rogers, M/M, May Parker Appreciation, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Tony Stark, PR - Freeform, Parent Figure Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Press Conferences, Prime or Not Prime (game), Selfless Peter Parker, Smart May Parker, Smart Steve Rogers, Sneaky Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve Tries, Steve rogers & peter parker friendship, Team Bonding, Team Breakfast, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Tired Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Top Bucky Barnes, not too compliant with anything after ca:tws, slight angst, smart bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-01 02:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17235356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andathousandyearsmore/pseuds/andathousandyearsmore
Summary: Five times where Captain America was Steve and one time Steve wasn't Captain America, alternatively known as the one where everyone couldn’t separate the legend from the man.EDITED: 9-22-19





	1. cooking

**Author's Note:**

> to the lovely lady in a dark maroon jumpsuit, forever sipping a glass of champagne in my mind and to the one and only talya, who happens to be the same person, just not in a dark maroon jumpsuit dedicated to leaving good first impressions
> 
> sorry your story is a few years late, forgive me?

  1. **cooking**



Steve was always the earliest to rise amongst everyone. Most people assumed that it was the soldier in him recalling the light sleeping schedule soldiers adopted during a war, respousing to an ingrained routine that hadn’t quite yet died. The same people never quite seemed to remember that Sam, retired or not, was Air Force and so was Colonel Rhodes, and he was still active. Whenever Jim dropped by for a few days, he was never in the first five to come up (or down, depending on where he was sleeping) for communal breakfast. Hell, sometimes not even in the first ten to rise. With all the new additions to the team, and more people _actually_ _coming to breakfast_ , Steve was finding that there were a lot more people to account for than normal.

He didn’t mind, though. He never did. He didn’t think he was supposed to, anyway. Everyone on the team deserved to be on the team; so what if there were a lot of people to keep track of? No one else was complaining, so Steve really had no leg to stand on there. 

Team breakfast had been his idea, but initially everyone had been wary of it. He had pitched the idea as team bonding, since he knew that coming from Captain America, they were going to listen. Captain America just had that effect on people, thanks to decades of propaganda, and Steve was not above using the voice and the posturing to suggest a few things here and there. It also sounded logical, that he would want the team to bond over food, which was an easy stepping point. Still, Steve definitely had understood the panic on everyone’s faces when he announced it, as well as the fact that the first one up would be the one to start. Everyone knew that it was him when he was there, and he knew the reputation the early 1900s had for boiling everything. He also knew that he hadn’t cooked in the 21st century before for them, so they didn't know he had a few cooking skills that he had picked up from his mom and the Howlies. Especially Dernier. 

(Dernier’s food was just... well, Steve was going to say that their few days of leave in bombed out town had been spent with Dernier’s cooking skills and little else.)

Steve had instantly won everyone over after the first breakfast. They had all said that they wouldn’t mind boosting morale like this if the food was this good. The voice inside his head—proud and French—always whisper-yelled words of encouragement and derision alike whenever he made breakfast from then on. 

He had soon forgotten that everyone thought he was boosting team morale, or whatever excuse he made for them to just eat. It simply became something of a routine for him. Wake up, brush his teeth, use the bathroom, wash his face, get dressed in running clothes, start the coffee, go for a run, come back, shower, drink a cup of coffee, make breakfast and wait for everyone as they trickled in while listening to the morning news. It was somewhat of a flexible routine, as the run was often canceled out if he woke up a little later than normal.

Today was one of those days, though he had actually wanted to go out on a run to shake out a few remaining feelings after last night’s nightmare. It wasn’t a problem, though. Today also happened to be one of the rare few days where everyone was here and together. And really, as Captain, he couldn’t shirk breakfast duty to go on a run. Breakfast was successful and he had to keep on doing it for the team. Well, _had_ in the sense that he would feel guilty if he didn’t. 

Bucky had always said that Steve liked to mother hen to the best of his abilities. Even when he needed that same treatment himself more often than not. Steve firmly held the stance that _he did not_ , _Bucky was just being overprotective again, quit it jerk, I can do it by myself!_

The swirls of a comforting memory began to fill Steve’s mind when the first person of the day came into the kitchen. Loudly.

“Cap, I love you, will you marry me?”

Steve chuckled to himself. That was Darcy, which was a little bit of a surprise. He thought that she’d be busy trying to get Jane, Bruce, Betty, and Tony to sleep in the middle of Science! The way Darcy said it, science was either a verb or an event that was capitalized and put together with an exclamation mark. Or so he imagined. She was a bubbly person; it could have been easy to mistake her upbeat personality for an exclamation mark. The capitalization though, that was non-negligible. Proper noun and all.

Yeah, Steve really should have gone on that run if he was going to go down a path of trying to make science a proper noun because of the way Darcy said it. Or a morning, post-breakfast nap.

He turned around and gave her a friendly smile, handing off the first plate to her. Already on the table were all kinds of syrups, honeys, whipped creams and fruit additions. Muffins were in the oven (he had made the batter last night) and a few coffee pots were running, plus a pot of tea. Once person number four came in, he was going to start the bacon, making sure to apologize to the few people who were vegetarian for running out of other food options. He had used the last few eggs on pancakes.

“Are the scientists sleeping?” Steve asked, starting the next round of pancakes. This, at least, had become second nature. He didn’t have to think about it or ever worry about pancakes burning; his body was basically on muscle memory. 

Steve wasn’t scared to admit that he liked cooking for other people, it gave him something to do. 

“I sent them all to bed at ten,” Darcy said, sounding extreme pleased with herself. The sounds of metal scraping on ceramic and a pancake cooking were the only noises in the room while Steve processed that.

He couldn’t believe that she managed to get all four of them out by ten, Darcy ‘miracle-worker’ Lewis or not. “How?” Steve knew his voice bordered on a goddess-worship tone and skepticism, but given the context he thought it was alright.

“They were trying to come up with some kind of a strategy for something that flew over my head and hitting nothing but frustration, so I decided to ask Jarvis to play that mariachi song Tony hates so much until I got their attention. I gave them all a pep talk, and after being distracted from Science! for more than eight minutes, they fell asleep,” Darcy smugly explained, and Steve heard the sound of a cap being flipped. Probably from the whipped honey she loved so much—Steve had tried it once and privately thought it was amazing, though his stomach did not, even with the serum. 

Steve flipped the pancake onto the plate and set the plate aside for whoever next was going to come in next. As he grabbed another plate, he complimented her, saying, “That’s incredibly clever. Beats pretending to knock them out, anyway.”

He could practically hear Darcy’s jaw drop. “What?”

He ladled batter onto the pan. “Tony was being incredibly stubborn this one particular time and I told him I dosed DUM-E’s monstrosity of a smoothie with sedatives. His body realized how tired he was when he was gaping at me and not doing science, kind of like what you did, and he slept. Pepper genuinely thought I knocked him out until JARVIS had to confirm I didn’t. JARVIS then told me it was a brilliant use of the placebo effect. But I just read it somewhere.” 

“That’s sneaky,” she approved, a smile in her voice. “Damn, son.”

“Thanks,” he said, hearing the arrival of another person. By their confident, yet tired footsteps, it was Pepper.

“Hey, Pepper,” he greeted, turning around to slide the plate towards her. The two women struck up a conversation, and Steve absentmindedly listened to the news as more people poured in and the room filled with chatter. Thankfully, even with twenty-one people (Steve, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Sam, Pepper, Jim, Betty, Jane, Darcy, Phil, Maria, Sharon, Peter, May, Kate, Wanda, Pietro, _and_ Scott) it wasn’t hard, as Steve had long ago mastered selective hearing. Mainly because of B—nope.

He wasn’t going to touch anything related to a few decades ago until he had a punching bag in front of him.

Steve internally sighed. He wasn't going to get through this breakfast if he didn't fully plaster the Cap mask on and let the persona take control. So he let his spine stiffen, and his expression tighten everywhere but the mouth, where he gave an easy, rehearsed smile. Just like that, he was putting on a nice show, going through the motions that were also muscle memory. It was better than selling bonds at least. This show didn’t involve cheesy gimmicks. 

When the tables were clear and everyone but one gone, he finally relaxed a touch, collecting plates and used cutlery. Darcy was still there, but she wasn’t really the type to bring up painful memories. The closest person she reminded him of was Peggy, and he had made peace with everything involving her a while ago. Darcy also wasn’t the type to say anything intrusive and deep just to provoke a reaction out of him. 

Well, unless she was stuck in her own mind. 

“You know, I didn’t really ever think that Captain America was the type to cook,” Darcy said, handing him a few plates. 

“Yeah?” he asked, taking them from her and putting them on top of the pile. He started washing the plates manually. 

Darcy stared at him for a second, surprised, before taking the wet, but clean plates he set aside and drying them. It was the same look most people gave them when he manually washed dishes, followed by the look they gave him when they thought he was an old-fashioned man. Honestly, Steve just liked the calming motion of doing something familiar. He put the dishes in the dishwasher more often than not nowadays anyway. 

“It makes sense though. Learning how to cook so you can help the team come together as a family. Clever, too, I mean, no one’s going to say no to free food. But where did you get the crepe recipe from yesterday?” 

He didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know where to begin. 

“I actually learned how to make those from Jacques,” Steve said, wondering if everyone thought the same as Darcy, that cooking was a Cap thing, not a Steve thing. Not that he could blame them much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [let me know what you think!](https://butonlyifyourecounting.tumblr.com/)
> 
> love, m x


	2. gender equality

  1. **gender equality**



 

Press conferences almost always followed this format:

1) Captain America opened the floor by addressing the issue at hand.

  * if it was an apology, he would issue the apology.
  * if it was an announcement, he would make it.
  * if it was one of the PR things, he would greet everyone and then say what needed to be said.
  * if it was anything else, he'd do some kind of an intro and possibly the lead into the topic to let someone else take over.



1.5) Captain America sometimes invited another person to share the floor.

2) Captain America would ask for any questions.

3) Captain America and other Avengers answered said questions.

4) One Avenger said something somewhere that was on the controversial.

5) Captain America quickly smoothed the issue over and took one last question (sometimes).

6) Captain America thanked them for their time and gave a sound bite at the end.

7) Captain America internally thanked Heimdall that nothing interrupted the conference, unless it did, in which case a few of the steps would be omitted.

These steps were a song-and-dance show that he had mastered all the way back in the 40s. The USO tour had guaranteed that, for all that it made him feel like a dancing monkey. Yet even though he was trusted to handle conferences, he also had to always have the comm in his ear that had someone from PR constantly supply his words. Nothing he said was his, and Steve knew that with the exception of Tony, who didn't even listen to them, no one else got the scripted treatment. It could have been because they weren't expected to lead the conference, but still. It stung that they did not trust him. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to phrase it or imbue the words with charm, he still felt that they came across as scripted. Even if he believed in what he was saying, which was a step up from the war’s propaganda.

_“Gender inequality is a social construct from centuries past that should have ended at least with my time. The fact that it exists here and now in the 21st century with such incredible advancements in society is unacceptable.”_

_“Neo-Nazism, perhaps, is a fancy way of telling Allied WWII veterans that the war we fought in did not terminate Hitler’s following and beliefs like it should have.”_

_“Beliefs that one group of human beings is lesser than another group of human beings are dangerous, inexcusable ideas that end in nothing but conflict.”_

Sometimes he could get away with wording things differently and trying to let himself shine though in Cap, but more often than not it led to someone from PR and Pepper asking him to stay on script and then making the next conference’s words tighter and more ambiguous. He often found that the few adjustments he made were always the ones that turned bland statements into more clear-cut, passionate phrases. Action, rather than inaction.

He was aware that everyone in the Avengers (and honorary Avengers, but if it was up to Steve he'd drop the honorary part and just give the full title over) knew his words were scripted. He was also aware of the reputation he had somehow acquired by the government’s careful manipulation. More importantly, he knew how heavy the weight of ‘old fashioned’ could lie on a person. After all, two of the first descriptors for him that weren’t related to Cap happened to be traditional and old-fashioned.

Cap had a fixed spot in the 21st century. Steve, in the other hand, wasn’t so sure of himself, and so he let himself play along. Fumbling through this world was a given, but with a role, Steve was just a little bit more steady. He couldn’t afford to slip up now like he could back in Brooklyn, not when he was who he was.

Who he was went farther than a propaganda soldier, into idol territory. Cap’s word mattered—god, _everything_  he said did—on issues from fighting to today’s topic, the female members of the Avengers. On his count, there were ten of them, and on the public’s count, there were two and a third Honorary Avenger. The “third” was Kate, the younger Hawkeye that Clint had taken under his wing. Steve never could resist cracking a smile at the stupid pun.

Which was why he was fielding questions on the gender disparity among the fighting Avengers. Not that his answers were any good, but they seemed to appease everyone well enough that surprisingly, there weren’t any controversial comments. For once, it was okay. Ruefully, he noted that he was also the only one there.

When he got back to the Tower, and headed towards the communal floor, he could already hear the conversation going. News dissecting his press conference was playing in the background. The noise didn’t distract from the fact that he could make out the voices clearly, though. Clearly they were in the middle of their topic: him.

The first words Steve fully caught were Tony’s, soft as they were. “How does Ice Pop look like he enjoys this things?” Tony sounded terribly aghast, indignant even on behalf of him. 

“He hasn’t been fucked over by the paps yet, Stark,” Clint said dryly. Steve pictured Clint’s signature deadpan look aimed directly at Tony, and then smiled. Clint was right, kind of. The paps loved him, but that didn’t mean Steve wasn’t fucked over by them.

Tony huffed. “He’s got them all charmed with that apple-pie, aw shucks smile,” he said sarcastically, words rising near the end as they mocked Steve. He would have been more offended that Tony was saying this, but it was nothing that Tony hadn’t said to his face. 

“He has the I’m-Disappointed-In-You-And-Dishonor-To-You-And-Your-Cow face,” Darcy added on matter-of-factly, sounding as if she was attempting the face right then and there. Steve had heard about this particular face of his. Natasha had once sent him a picture when he had been confused as to what people meant. It was really the face he made when he was trying to channel Colonel Phillips. 

“No! Aunt Peggy said it was always the puppy dog eyes that really charmed people,” Sharon said, not that he needed to recognize her voice to know that it was her. Peggy has always made fun of him for that. 

“Man, the disappointed eyebrow face can shut up haters from the _moon_ while telling them to love him,” Sam agreed, and then Steve heard the sound of something being passed and spilled. Popcorn? 

Testy, maybe because whatever had been spilled had been spilled on him, Tony quickly said, “Great, everyone loves Cap, fantastic, but how does he _like_ these things?” Short answer: he didn’t. 

“Maybe he likes doing his job and preventing scandals, _Stark_.” That was Maria; so very clearly Maria that he almost laughed and alerted them all that he was near. Steve had to bite down his cheek to make himself stop thinking about the affronted look that he would bet nearly anything on that Tony would have right now. 

“You know, I bet Cap has a good scandal in him,” Tony said, obviously pretending to be hurt by the comment.

“And we are not going to find out, right Tony?” Pepper asked innocently, in that unique way she seemed to share with Peggy where she threatened people while making them think she was an absolute angel. 

“The good captain is the best of us, Stark, we should not pry into his personal affairs.” Oh. That was Thor. Steve hadn’t known Thor would be there with the rest of them while keeping quiet for this long. 

“Please don’t. I don’t need to know anything about the remaining unblemished person in this Tower,” Phil said, surprising Steve again. Phil and Thor? Well, at least Phil was the type to be quiet unless he had something clever or pleasant to say.

“His skeletons probably involve Iced Americano #2 anyway,” Tony mused thoughtfully, both unlike and like a child whose revolutionary idea had been shut down by several well-meaning and concerned adults.

“Tones, that got depressing _fast_ ,” Jim said. 

“Oh sure,” Tony retorted, “Ou of the ten of us, I depressed the situation. Mm-hmm. Not like any conversation about Cap and Cap #2 gets sad.” 

 _No one say anything, no one say anything, no one say anything, no one—_ “Hey, shouldn’t Cap be back by now?” Darcy asked.

Everyone paused for a something, and Steve heard a rustle. Phil said, “The bike tracker says he’s parked in the garage.”

“You have a tracker on his bike?” Sam sounded horrified, and Steve made a mental note to check his bike for the tracker. 

“Still from the surveillance detail in DC?” Sharon asked. Of course she would know about it, having been the person to watch him try to gain most of the footing back in his life for those miserable days of his life back then. And by back then, he meant a year and a half ago. 

“Cap has a... tendency of getting lost,” Maria diplomatically said, not mentioning that most of the times he had gotten _lost_ involved him needing a break from everything. 

“Hey J, where’s Cap?” Tony asked, promptly changing gears on the conversation. Steve decided that now was the right time to stop eavesdropping and join them, before JARVIS gave him away.

“Right here, why?” Steve asked, walking into the communal area and hanging up his cowl in the designated area. He’s often thankful that everyone forgets that he has super senses—not including the few times that super hearing was a curse at night.

“Hey Cap, I’ve got a ques-uf! Pep!” Tony greeted loudly, before Pepper (it had to have been Pepper) stomped on his foot. “How do you do press conferences?”

Steve pretended to misunderstand the question, just because he didn’t want to say _he_ didn’t. Cap did. “Um, what?” While Tony scrambled to reword that question amidst everyone else telling him not to, Steve caught his reflection in the glass and winced. He would have to do something to the top of that cowl to prevent his hair from looking like Frankenstein’s bride every time he took it off.

He snapped out of his thoughts about the weird Frankenstein adaptation—the one that briefly played on his StarkPad before he changed it to Sherlock a few days agowhen Tony started to ask, “You look like you actually enjoy press conferences. How?”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to straighten some part of it flat. “Tony, no one who gives press conferences with the frequency I do likes them.” Ain’t that the truth. 

Tony looked like he learned that DNA wasn’t in a double helix shape. Wait, biology was more Bruce and Betty. Hmm, maybe he gasped like he learned that a few fundamental laws of physics were broken. Yeah, that made more sense, even if Steve could have done better with the analogy. Sometimes he envied Tony for how quickly he came up with references and quips. “The apple-pie smile!”

Steve sighed. “To keep a real smile and an open demeanor, you just have to find something that’s even a little funny. Today, one the male reporters was wearing an Avengers tie that got your colors mixed up with Bruce’s. Picture a gold Hulk with red pants, Tony, and tell me you can’t not laugh.” It wasn’t a complete lie, not really. There had been someone dressed like that.

Just as he predicted, the entire room either burst out in laughter, or had controlled smiles that were threatening to widen. Even Maria, who had a poker face rivaling Natasha’s, was smirking lightly. The picture popped in his head again. Steve silently groaned; he wasn’t going to be able to look Bruce in the eye today. Or the week.

“That’s smart of you, Steve,” Pepper said.

“It’s what Peggy used to do, even when she was spitfire mad,” he shrugged. Steve knew that the respect he had for her crept back up in his voice, like it always did. Somehow, everyone seemed to notice that now. “The Howlies used to try to make her laugh whenever she was angry at us. I had too much respect to even try.”

The shield story was the first in a long line of fuckups that had taught him to go along with Peggy’s hurricane. A very long line of fuckups, because Steve was a bad human being when it came to not fucking up. 

Sharon looked at him and said, “The shield?” Of course Sharon knew.

Steve shuddered in response. “I’d always get teased by Bucky and Howard about Pvt. Lorraine, too. The Howlies and even Peggy joined in later.”

Thor, out of all people, looked like he understood and even sympathized. _Thor._  What did that even mean? Who in _Thor’s_ life would dare make fun of him for a mishap with a woman? Steve really wanted to know, but knowing Thor, he was better off not knowing and blowing his mind. 

Steve decided not to ask. He started to leave, before Darcy said something.

“Hey, thanks by the way. For that,” she said, tilting her head to gesture at the screen. “I know things were different then, but it’s nice. To see that people can change regardless of where they came from. You know?” 

 _People can change._  As if Steve had needed his opinion changed or something. As if equality was a Cap thing and not a Steve thing. As if he wasn’t Sarah Rogers’s son. 

Steve sighed and headed towards his floor, his mood suddenly changed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [let me know your thoughts](https://butonlyifyourecounting.tumblr.com/)!  
> love, m x


	3. math

  1. **math**



The past two days had been stressful and interesting. Interesting in a way that wasn’t positive, like it had caught his eye, but rather more strange. And stressful, in that Steve was suddenly forced to confront and think about a few different things that he didn’t really want to. Or viewpoints he hadn’t thought of before. 

It had been a month since Steve had seen Bucky last, and a month since Bucky had promised him that he was going to come back after a few things were tied up. He hated that Bucky was out there alone, trying to figure out who he was and probably beating himself over the fact that he’d never be the same. After all, Bucky had apologized for it. HYDRA had done things to Bucky that had made Steve sick to his steel stomach. Steve didn’t know if Bucky remembered his missions or not as the Winter Soldier, but Steve hoped he didn’t. For Bucky’s sake, Steve hoped he didn’t remember all of it, as much of a terrible human being it made Steve for wishing the memory loss was a good thing in this case. It was just something Steve would have to live with. 

It had been five months since SHIELD fell and the vague public knew about the Winter Soldier. It had been three months and three weeks since when Bucky yelled at him to stop searching, stop hoping for a person that might not come back. It had been three and a half months since Steve stopped searching for Bucky. Everyone else had thought that Steve stopping was a show of defeat that had come out of nowhere. But it had also been three and a half months since he went back to the tower and had a long, overdue talk with Tony. The time had been ticking slow since then, categorized only by the three times that Bucky had talked to him since.

Turned out that Bucky and Peggy were the only two people who knew Steve first, Cap second.

The cooking and the equality—god, that had been startling—conversations had only proved that too well. He could hear his ma’s chastising comments already.

_A thaisce, if anyone ever tells you that they’re better than you, or anyone else, you don’t hesitate to tell them they’re wrong, you hear me? You are just as good as them._

_A stór, you must treat every single women and young girl with the same respect as you treat me. Don’t you dare go around underestimating them just because they aren’t men._

_Steven, everyone deserves the same treatment, unless you see them doing something you can put them down for, yes? And even then, stay kind._

So maybe Steve didn’t exactly stay kind to those who were bullies, but Sarah had known that. All she ever asked when Steve came home with cuts, bumps, bruises, and an exasperated Bucky was a question about what had happened. She usually fondly ruffled his hair—even if he was fifteen—and pulled out the first aid kit. 

—————

The punching bag gave out, and Steve bitterly cursed as he eyed the fallen bag. That made two, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. Today clearly wasn’t going to be the day where he could use them. Steve decided to tell JARVIS to inform Tony on the state of his bags, and then moved onto the Smith machine that was _the strongest one of its kind, Cap, it’s made just for you and that super strength of yours_.

Steve didn’t quite know how to tell Tony that this, too, was hard not to break and easily use. He honestly didn’t want Tony to lock himself up in the workshop and start brainstorming things, especially right now. While everyone was here, he wanted _everyone to be here_. Not in a workshop alone. But what a hypocrite Steve was, by himself up in this gym. 

“Hey JARVIS?” Steve called out, pushing past his mind yelling at his hypocrisy. “Prime or Not Prime?”

It generally would be harder to workout when his mind was otherwise occupied. He didn’t pay attention to the fact that it was easy for him to multitask—surprisingly—and waited for JARVIS as he started pulling and pushing.

“2339.”

“Prime.”

“5571.”

“Not Prime. 3.”

“8813.”

“Not Prime. 7.”

“6283.”

“Not Prime. 61?”

“61 and 103, Sir. 1987.”

“Prime.”

“21893.”

“Um, prime.”

“32489.”

“Not Prime. 53 and 613.”

“54883.”

“Prime, J,” Tony called out, striding into the gym. “And Cap, I thought you were destroying my bags again. Not playing math games with my AI.”

Steve carefully set everything back to normal, and then got out of the Smith machine, slightly sweaty. Thankfully, he had been right, to an extent, that both combined would tire him out. Instead of responding to Tony though, he said, “Not Prime.”

“Sir, the Captain is correct,” JARVIS said, somewhat apologetically. Steve long stopped questioning how an AI could somehow feel things and convey them.

“He what?” Tony asked, stopping in his tracks and staring at him. Steve uncomfortably turned away when Tony didn’t. “You what?”

“54883 is 71 and 773,” Steve said, after a long minute.

Tony blinked, like it hadn’t occurred to him at all. Then he pointed an accusing finger at Steve and exclaimed, “The shield!” Like it made perfect sense. The shield _what?_

“What?” Steve asked, at the risk of sounding stupid. Even though two seconds ago proved the exact opposite. 

“The way you use that shield has to involve calculations on angles, force, velocity, distance, drag and lift and literally all branches of... so you had to learn, right?” Tony asked, sounding just like he did whenever he solved a particular puzzle. Steve just wished Tony would let him in on what said puzzle was. “Otherwise the shots you take go horribly wrong?” 

“No, I could alrea—”

“And the serum! It enhanced your brain, right? Perfect human and all,” Tony continued on, much too pleased with himself, especially since he was horribly wrong. 

Steve stared at him. “Well, yeah, but I’ve always—”

“Huh, I can’t believe that never occurred to me. You’re holding out you’re math tricks on us, Cap! Wait, so what would your IQ be? We have to get you tested,” Tony said, cutting him off and ignoring him completely. “Oh my _god_ , do you think super-soldier intelligence could stack up in a chart or do you think... wait no, that would put you up at levels of... hmmm.”

“I don’t think the serum changed how smart I a—”

”We can find out!”

Steve sighed, and left the gym.

Prime or Not Prime was a game he had played when he was too sick to do anything else with Bucky. Both of them were exceptionally good at calculating out prime and composite numbers, only because it was habit. Math, in general, was something that had come easy to him. After all the bedridden hours he spent trying to occupy himself, how could it not? There was only so much paper in the house he could use to draw, and when that was done, he’d read the books Bucky had somehow gotten on war and math. Ironic that they were two different things that were united by a need for strategy. 

People tended to assume so many thing about Steve, and he didn’t mind being called dumb. Many had underestimated him then, and many underestimated him now. But calling Cap smart and Steve dumb? Really? Sure, he had missed school often due to his illnesses, but he always made it up perfectly, and got some of the best grades when he was in school. Sure, he went to art school (and not other colleges) for a while, but he had only stopped since they were running out of money, and because Germany invaded Poland. Still, Steve had pursued a higher education when most people like him, and in his financial state (or better, who was he kidding) barely graduated high school.

 _Bucky_ had managed to land himself in a college, for mechanics, too, but only for a year. That argument had been one of the most explosive ones they had in all their time. Bucky claimed it was because he hated it, Steve knew it was because had the money to support only one of them comfortably in college. Still, that didn’t make either of them dumb, just because they came from an older time period.

Steve knew that now, if asked between him and Bucky, who looked smarter, most would answer with his best friend. Apparently, dumb blondes were something of a stereotype, with bonus points if they were strong men or beautiful women. He had been reliably told he fit the bill.

Okay, maybe Bucky was smarter than he was, but _that wasn’t the point._

Steve stopped himself from thinking anything else. One more thought down this path, and he’d genuinely need the punching bags again.

 _“You’ve got that hot Irish temper, Stevie_ ,” _Bucky always said._

He’d just have to accept this too, along with the other two things and whatever else people thought of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always welcome (and so are prompts!)
> 
> love, m x


	4. stealth and tactics

  1. **stealth/tactics**



As much as he loved having everyone be in one place for a week, and getting to know some of the more traveling/off-site members of the team, he had to step out of the building for a second and into the city. Admittedly, the city was also filled with people and cars and flash and color, but this was all stuff he could tune out without consequences. Steve could also walk down the streets aimlessly and blend in amongst the crowd, just another nobody that no one cared about or paid attention to.

It had stumped everyone on how he managed to live in relative anonymity outside of the Tower. The others (minus Tony) were understandable, but Steve’s face was plastered in most history textbooks, countless news articles, news channels, and social media like no one else. For some reason or another—either battles, a press conference, or good old-fashioned gossip and speculation—he was always in the public eye. Even without the fame, his physique (according to the team) was more than enough for people to stop and approach him, and then recognize him.

At the beginning, in his outdated clothes, he had been approached far too many times to count. He had promptly switched over to more modern clothes after that with Natasha’s help, and made himself more smaller. That had done the trick. It hadn’t hurt that he was a New Yorker at heart, and he knew the inner desire of wanting to be ignored and ignore everything irrelevant. It also hadn’t hurt that he had spent the better part of his life as a five foot practically nothing tall guy who was always invisible. That wasn’t something someone forgot easily.

It wasn’t too much about stealth, but rather knowing your field and then adjusting. In DC, whenever he went out on his runs, he would get stopped in the last few laps, when normal people ran. There, he wasn’t in exactly conservative clothing (and yes, he knew what the right shirts did to people, why else would he have worn them?) and it had become something of a known fact that Captain America did his runs near the Potomac. But as soon as his run was over, and he was dressed in the same modern, yet a little more stylish, clothes, he was back to anonymity. DC’s tourists were always in the look out for celebrities of the powerful type, and they’d spot him as Cap pretty quickly… had it not been for the fact that whenever they looked, he looked just like a bored, fed-up local.

Steve was fantastically adjusted like that, no matter what Natasha said. He was also excellent at picking up social cues, thank you very much, and intelligence cues.

Which is why when someone bumped into his left shoulder and then didn’t apologize, but rather met his pace, he rolled his eyes. “Hey, watch it, I happen to like this sweatshirt.”

“It’s a size one too large. Jeez, man, don’t you know to get your clothes fit?” Bucky’s unmistakable voice snapped right back at him, never able resist the urge to needle him back. Steve really wouldn’t have it any other way. The day Bucky starts giving in is the day he’ll know something’s irrevocably wrong.

“It's a style, y’know? Think they call it comfy chic nowadays,” he replied, just as quick. Steve couldn’t afford stopping and looking at Bucky’s face or reactions, despite wanting to. Cameras picked up stops or speed, but they didn’t pick up people who all walked in similar paces.

He could hear Bucky’s laugh, hesitant, like he had almost forgotten that he could do that. Steve carefully avoided that thought train. “You are full of shit.”

“Tell me something new,” Steve grinned, tucking his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“You know, you’re still insane, letting me walk these streets. With you. S’not easy, holding him off at bay,” Bucky said, him meaning the Winter Soldier, “Haven’t exactly won that battle all the time.” 

“And yet here you are, maintaining conversation and functioning just fine as a human,” Steve responded easily, filing away a note that Bucky’s slipped back and found himself back out in the corner of his mind. That it could be done was reassuring. 

“This is insanity, pretending that I’m fine, Steve. I’m not, and with all the shit I've done and all the shit in my brain, you can’t keep—” Bucky snarled.

Steve cut him off. “Who’s saying you’re fine? Pal, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I hear 70 years of crap does things to people. Things that, with time and _help from other people_ , can start to heal. At least you gotta try. This isn’t good for you.”

Bucky sharply barked a laugh, bitter and sarcastic and familiar to both of them. “Never thought I’d hear the day where Steve ‘I Had ‘Em On The Ropes’ Rogers told someone else to get help from someone else. How’s that going for you, by the way?”

“People have reliably told me that things have changed in the 21st century, and that I had to change with them,” Steve said, though both of them know he doesn’t mean a single word. He’ll always be who he is in the inside, even of the outer packaging is bright and shiny, like everything else this century. 

“Yeah well, maybe I’ve changed a little too much. I’m never going to be either of the people you or they or anyone wants me to be.”

“You think I’m doing this because I want the Bucky Barnes from last century back? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people nowadays have a tendency to chew old-fashionedness out like tobacco. I ain’t wishing that on anyone else. Not even you, asshole,” Steve said, trying to lighten any sort of a mood that they have right now. “You're not that much of a special, rememberable guy to want you back.” 

“Not that much of a special guy? Steve, I’ve got memories of lo—”

“I know what we were. Can’t lie that I don’t want it to be like that in the future. But if it’s not, and even if we aren’t friends, I’ll live. I will,” Steve interrupted again. He needed to make this clear. “I am not holding you to old memories. Make new ones.”

“Steve, I—”

“With or without me. As long as you don’t go it alone,” Steve firmly said, trying not to think about what it meant that Bucky remembered loving him. 

Bucky didn’t say anything for a minute, and if Steve couldn’t hear the other man’s breathing, he’d had guessed he was alone again. But Bucky’s breathing was keeping Steve from walking elsewhere or making any sharp turns. 

“I’m going to be at the Compound for the next few days if you want to talk again. Ross wants a few things again, fucking bastard,” Steve said casually. But Bucky didn’t talk again, and this time, it was because he wasn’t there anymore. Steve sighed and started the walk back home, from wherever he was. But first, he had a few detours to make.

—————

The elevator had taken him to the communal floor, rather than his floor, like he had asked for. The doors opened, and Steve frowned. This only happened if something major was happening. What was it? Had they finally caught onto Bucky? Oh no. Oh no, oh no, no, _no_. 

“Steve,” Sharon said in relief, spotting him standing there. Soon, a few other heads turned to look at him curiously.

He walked over to the rest of them, who were surveilling locations that he recognized as places he frequented. Sharon, Maria, Natasha, Clint, and Sam. Clint seemed to be frantically texting someone. He was beginning to get a picture of what was happening and why the elevator stopped where it did. They were going to yell at him for vanishing on them at best. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as all the displays disappeared and it was just the six of them plus whoever Clint was talking to.

“The Winter Soldier has been spotted around Stark Tower and Manhattan. Probably for you, so when you disappear on us, we start to worry,” Sam said, almost patronizingly at the end. But he sounded relieved, again, more than anything, so Steve let it slide. 

“Bucky,” he breathed, looking hopeful while suppressing a laugh. _If only they knew. If only they knew about everything._

“No, not _Bucky_ ,” Clint said, correcting him with a frown, “The Winter Soldier. Who put you in the hospital for a week last time he saw you.” 

_No, it was Bucky, who last time he saw me, he told me that remembered loving me. This was Bucky, not the Winter Solider, no matter what people said._

“Wh-where did you spot him? If he’s here in New York, then—” Steve tried to act and make himself seem like a hopeful idiot, the same one people thought he was. Which, fair, because he was most of the time. But not when it came to Bucky. 

“Where were you?” Natasha asked instead, glaring him down. Steve let himself be cowed, deflating like an over baked soufflé. 

“I was on a walk,” he said, realizing that even his truth sounded flimsy. That was bad. “And I thought someone was tailing me, so I took an unorthodox route. I was near, uh, that bakery with the olive oil cupcakes and the olive flavored bread?”

Clint sat up straighter, like he knew exactly what Steve was talking about. Steve didn’t doubt it; it lined up with the other weirdness that Clint had going for him. “Oh, Live?” he asked excitedly.

“Sure,” Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “Could have been.” Then he blinked innocently. “Do you think Bucky recognized me? Wanted to follow me? You think he remem—”

The room let out a collective sigh. No one seemed like they wanted to say anything, until Maria shot him a dark look and said, “You’re probably right. He could have recognized you as _his last kill mission.”_

“You said you shook him off,” Natasha asked. It wasn’t a question, but her voice rose at the end doubtingly. Fair. 

“Wasn’t easy.”

“How?” she asked, more curious than before.

“Uh, well, I…”

“The Winter Soldier is the best at his job. You learned tailing a few months ago, and no offense Steve, but people with decades on you can’t.” Natasha interrupted crossly, not at all condescending. It was a matter of fact, one that even Steve would accept, unless he wanted to poke fun. 

Steve smiled lightly. “Decades on me? I find that hard to believe.” It was a bad joke on his side, and didn’t do anything to alleviate Natasha’s point. They all just stared at him with exasperation on their faces.  

“Of _experience_.” she pointedly said, falling down to meet him at the point and glaring all the while.

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t learn tailing a few months ago, then, isn’t it?” Steve said, crossing his arms with a taunting look. This was fun, especially when he knew he wasn’t in trouble. 

A pin could have dropped in the silence that followed.

“The Howling Commandos ran intelligence ops?” Phil asked reverently, like his heroes turned out to be better than he originally thought (very true). 

“That’s classified,” Steve seriously said, grateful that no one had realized that his poker face was just that; a good poker face. “But not what I meant, unfortunately.”

“Director Carter,” Maria said, also another half-question/half-statement that spies were often very good at.

“She finished a lesson that Bucky had started, but…”

“They taught you a few things for Captain America, right? Like your tactics and planning skills?”

“No?” Steve suddenly felt that same pang of confusion he had gotten at breakfast, at the communal media room, and at the gym. Dear god, if this was going to play out like it did last time, where they wouldn’t let him explain, he was just going to leave and spare himself the trouble.

So he did just that, suddenly wanting fresh air again. 


	5. childhood

 5.  **childhood**

Steve was staring out one of the massive windows of the Avengers Compound and at the training game that several Avengers were playing. Actually, out of the all the fighting Avengers, he was the only one _not_ out there, but it didn’t seem like the others noted his disappearance. Even if they did, it didn’t seem like it mattered. Amongst the impressive powers of everyone else, Steve’s ability to _not die easily_ didn’t seem that incredible anymore. Actually, all he was good for now was calling a few shots and putting on a winning smile that only hid him from the world.

This only supported his decision on what to do once he could smooth over the Winter Soldier mess with Ross and the rest of the world. Tomorrow, Steve knew, was crucial in setting the stage for removing the shoot-on-sight order that he knew had been placed on Bucky. And then, he’d negotiate a trial rather than directly placing him in jail. After that, it would be getting Bucky free. When all was said and done maybe now, maybe in a few years, that was going to be it. Steve was going to retire.

Tony co-lead the team anyway, and he knew that Sam was just as capable of leading as he was, maybe even better. Natasha, Wanda, Tony, Clint, Thor, Bruce, Sam, Kate, Scott, Jim (whenever he could), Pietro and even Peter—Steve was sure that Tony and May would definitely be out-stubborned by Peter by the time Steve called it, and if not, reserves were a thing—would be much more than enough. There were many more people out there, that if given a chance, would help. That was the thing about the Avengers: if they put out a call, the world would help. It was a beauty people didn’t seem to realize yet; a good thing considering the situations that would merit a call to the world for help. 

His shield was getting heavy anyway, and maybe he wouldn’t force Captain America on Sam or anyone if they didn’t want it, but he knew that the weight of the shield would fall onto someone else. That was maybe the only reason he hadn’t quite retired or thought about it before Bucky had come along. Maintaining the public face for the Avengers and being constantly scrutinized wasn’t something he’d wish on even his greatest enemies. Tony; he would understand, but Steve wasn’t going to let him shoulder more of the public’s gaze and get back into the spotlight he had only recently managed to win over.

Steve was tired and he couldn’t keep going like this forever, but he he couldn’t watch and do nothing as someone else from his team felt the same pressures and weights that he had shirked. Selfish of him, wasn’t it, to get a second chance, and then throw it away? To complain? To run away?

So he just kept on staring out the window, noting down things about how certain people tended to fight with others, who complimented whose skills well, and how some of the new moves he had thought up of worked. Wanda especially, he kept an eye out for this time, since it hadn’t even been a week since her last slipup, which had shaken her confidence. She had almost tossed three treadmills at him and actually tossed one at him, and hadn’t forgotten it since, though he was perfectly fine. But now, she seemed to be doing perfectly fine, though he instantly recognized the moves she did as things from months ago, basic little tricks.

Her brother on the other hand, was a little blur half the time, and carelessly talking to her the other half without watching his back. Steve shook his head, smiling softly. Pietro was clearly trying to get her to do something better, and to actually train. Steve’s smile suddenly faded as the ball of energy in her hands turned into something larger and angrier, aimed directly at Pietro. Wanda threw it, and luckily, Pietro ran out of the way, pushing out Kate and Clint while he did so.

The strange thing was, even if Pietro hadn’t run, he wouldn’t have been hit. Somehow, Wanda managed to take the burst of energy back not even a second after it was released, and held it in her hands. It separated in two, and she aimed both at Sam’s wings. Sam dodged both expertly. Steve let out a sigh of relief, especially when he saw Pietro’s knowing smirk.

And then he didn’t, because Pietro had disappeared to somewhere. Steve couldn’t even see the blur. A minute later, when a rush of wind stood right next to him, Steve could instantly tell where Pietro had gone.

“Clever,” was all Steve said.

He could just feel the younger man’s smirk directed at him. Not that Pietro wasn’t much younger than him if the frozen years didn’t count; Pietro was almost 25 and Steve was 29. Well, kind of. He wasn’t exactly defrosted on his birthday, so theoretically he could also be 28 almost 29. That was a thought process for a different time, not that it mattered since Steve was the kind of old that seeped into his bones.

“You approve?” Pietro asked in surprise.

Steve broke his watch of the Avengers and glanced at Pietro. “Depends. What did you say?”

“I told her that either she had to step it up, or she would have to face your disappointment eyebrows. And then I told her that I would tell you about something else,” Pietro slyly said.

Steve blinked. “My disappointment eyebrows. What do _you_ know about them?”

“That is the face you make when you are disappointed with someone, yes? Worse than Mama’s look,” Pietro shuddered, before breaking into a grin. Just as quickly as he came, Pietro disappeared, reappearing in the field. Steve was still confused. Since when did the twins develop a thing about the Colonel Phillips face? They hadn’t ever been on the end of it, save for the Uktron fiasco. 

He went back to watching, and not even a few minutes later he heard the presence of someone else in the room.

“He’s keeping up well,” Steve said without turning around. Both of them knew exactly who the ‘he’ was.

May walked to him and stood in the same place that Pietro had stood. This time, he broke off his watching all together and looked at her. She didn’t seem like she was going to talk anything job-related to him, so he relaxed a little.

“Still a no,” she smiled, raising an eyebrow at him amusedly. She tilted her head towards the windows, and by extension, Peter, and then shook her head. “Even if I say yes, I think Tony has to be convinced more than I do.”

Steve laughed as both of them watched Tony as he tried to help out Peter. He rolled his eyes when it seemed like Tony was sternly talking to Peter in the middle of Wanda’s energy attacks.

“But I was actually just wondering what kind of cake you liked,” May said.

“Cake?” Steve asked weakly, thrown by the question. 

“I’ve asked around,” May started, “And everyone seems to be giving me different answers. I think I’ve even gotten fruitcake as a response, and no one likes that as their favorite. Or they shouldn’t.”

“Coffee-chocolate,” he automatically responded, thinking back to the bakeries near his old SHIELD-assigned NY apartment and the old SHIELD-assigned DC apartment. “But why?”

May stared at him as if he had two heads. “Your birthday.”

“My birthday?” Steve faintly asked again, dumbfounded. 

“It is your birthday in two days, right?” May hesitantly guessed, crossing and uncrossing her middle and index on her right hand as she waited for him to respond. Suddenly, the usually unflappable May looked nervous.

He stared at her in complete surprise. “It is, but how did you…?”

“Oh please, anyone who believes that your birthday is actually on the 4th of July is a—wait. Does everyone here believe that your birthday is on the 4th?” May asked, wide-eyed in horror.

Steve didn’t know how to tell her that there were only a handful of people who knew that his birthday wasn’t on July 4th, and that most of them were not born after 1935. Steve wondered how she had figured it out, since even JARVIS hadn’t known. Or,  JARVIS had never made an indication that he had known. 

“Hard not to, when my birth certificate says it,” Steve wryly said, looking down at the floor.

“I thought the team was all joking or something when they kept telling me…” May exclaimed. “I only figured it out because I asked JARVIS why the calendar said you were going to take that date off.”

“That I do it every single year, no matter what’s happening?” Steve filled in, a thin smile on his face. Maybe JARVIS did know. 

“It really wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” she said. “But… really? No one?”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t think a birthday is going to apply to me anymore.”

May didn’t appear convinced. Resolutely, she said, “With the exception of Colonel Rhodes, everyone will still be here. Would you like a mini-party?”

Steve smiled at that, silently thanking her for asking beforehand and not just jumping ahead. “I’m good, thank you. Trust me, getting wished is more than enough. On whatever day I might get wished.” 

Sadness filled her face as something in her face hardened and made a decision. “Oh Steve,” she sighed, smiling fondly despite her tone, “He’s just like you, you know.” She looked over to Peter, who seemed to be using his webs to protect the entire yellow team against the purple team, despite what Tony kept saying in the background.

Steve shook his head, ducking it bashfully. “I’d be honored to be like him, you know.”

May laughed. “Still a no.” She paused. “For now.”

“In that case, in lieu of that party,” Steve started, “Would you mind doing me a favor?”

May nodded without missing a beat. “What?”

“I know Peter was meaning on going to that Science Con tomorrow, and I know that he decided not to because of our all-team week. Um, during the conference with Ross, would you mind taking him and dragging Bruce to it? It’s obvious why I want Bruce out, where Ross can’t see him inside the Compound, but Peter’s too young to be caught up in Ross’s power plays. I bought the tickets already; I’ll have JARVIS send them to you?”

“Sure,” May said, “But I’m pretty sure that birthday means you get presents, not give them. Don’t think I won’t find a way to make it up to you.”

Steve didn’t hesitate for a second that she wouldn’t. “Their safety is all that matters.”

“That’s bull,” May simply said, rolling her eyes.

Steve grinned as she started to walk away, leaving him all alone again, yet a little better than he had felt this entire week. Maybe he was being too down on himself.

——————

Scott had just enlarged himself when Pepper stood right next to him—in the same spot as May and Pietro—and silently observed the Avengers along with him. She didn’t say something for a full minute, instead focusing on two particular members of the yellow team sadly. The smile on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Is anything the matter, Pepper?” Steve asked quietly.

He heard her sharply inhale, hold it, and then softly exhale twice. Then she spoke. “Ross is planning on doing a holographic conference, rather than coming here.” 

Steve groaned. This was the only worst case scenario that he wasn’t prepared fully for. Of course it would be the one Ross took, the absolute bastard. “Wanda can’t read him, then.”

Pepper nodded ruefully, “I’m afraid so.”

“Do you think he knows?” Steve suddenly asked, struck with a twinge of panic. The actions Ross would take if he ever realized that Wanda was reading his mind were actions unfathomable. 

“I don’t know. He cited the transportation time and a few other meetings as his reason, but…” Pepper’s face said it all.

“It could easily be a cover,” Steve finished, running a hand through his hair, the fight in front of him now a stray thought in the back of his mind. Recently, he had fallen into a safety net of having Wanda to anticipate questions and give Steve a warning.

“Exactly,” Pepper said, throughly unhappy about it. 

“Which means that your team will have to script pre-drafted arguments, and that leaves us wide-open,” Steve said, picking up on Pepper’s frustration. He didn’t say how he could simply talk _without_ help. If and when Bucky was involved, Steve knew that he probably wasn’t going to keep it steady.

She dithered for a second, caught between asking for something and not, but indecisiveness was not her. “I hate to ask this of you, but you still remain the only person who Ross is willing to even listen to,” Pepper started apologetically, but Steve cut her off, not having to hear what she was going to say next.

“I can stall, provide filler answers, and deflect while your team scrambles for an answer if they don’t have one,” he responded. “It’ll be similar to dodging the team’s questions on my love life.” Steve smirked, trying to reassure her, and himself. 

She smiled knowingly at that, at the countless nights spent discussing his love life or lack of one. “Perhaps not quite the same.”

Close enough.”

She nodded, more to herself than him. “Okay. I just wanted to let you know. And… what is your favorite cake flavor, Steve?”

“Coffee-chocolate,” he responded. May must have piqued Pepper’s curiosity. He just knew it. 

She rolled her eyes. “Tony was convinced it was vanilla, and Bruce was convinced it was red velvet. To fit the theme.”

“I thought I liked banana cake when I was younger. Turned out I liked it only because it was the only cake we could afford to make most of the time, Ma and I,” Steve said for absolutely no reason. “I mean, I think I have favorites out of the ones I’ve tried, you know?” 

“The Great Depression?”

“Well, that, and being the son of an Irish immigrant, made money a tight situation,” Steve reminisced. “Really tight, sometimes.” _Too tight_ , Steve thought, thinking of all the times where food was yesterday’s dream. 

“Irish? Immigrants?”

 _Stíofán Rogers_ , Steve silently thought, but he said, “Yeah. Well, my mother was an immigrant. My father didn’t cross the Atlantic. He, uh, it was complicated.” 

“Oh!” Pepper exclaimed. “I don’t think that’s included in your narratives. Not even the Irish.”

Steve gave her a smile, but unlike the ones he gave to May, which were real, this one felt strained. It didn’t even come as a surprise anymore that history had erased that and subbed in their own explanations. They weren’t exactly about Steve Rogers, but rather Captain America.

So Steve carried on the conversation with Pepper, and didn’t let himself feel blank inside until she left, taking the good feelings May had given.

It wasn’t her fault. Steve just had to remember that. It was all history’s and the government’s fault for spinning it. 


	6. steve

**+1. steve**

Steve was silently doing meditation practices that Bruce had taught him while the Secretary was talking. General Ross was a normally infuriating person, at least to Steve, but today was pushing it to a new level. He had never wanted to punch a hologram as hard as he wanted to do now. The Secretary should have been glad that he wasn’t physically present in the room. No matter how much Steve did his breathing exercises, he didn’t think he was going to be able to rein in his temper if the man was _sitting right there spitting out senseless drivel._

Of course, the General wanted Bruce’s location for the millionth time. Steve and Tony had both said that Bruce’s location was a constantly changing, untraceable thing. It was a half lie; Bruce did tend to go from his labs, to his room, to the gym, and the communal floor a lot. Everyone presented a united front on that; Bruce’s well-being and safety was something they all agreed on to a perfect T. Steve was prepared to lie to the ends of the earth for him.

So the General changed tactics, and began to talk about the Winter Soldier, and what would happen to him after one of the numerous alphabet agencies found him. Steve knew that this was primarily to put him on edge, and to find out if the Avengers had found Bucky. It might have worked on a lesser person, but Steve was used to reining in his emotions. Well, all of them but anger. Even if he had been doing a spectacular job of it in the 21st century, Steve knew that one of these days, he was going to snap.

If he had someone to bet with, he’d say it was going to be today, if the sparks soaring through him were any indication.

“We just wanted to inform you, Captain Rogers, and all of the Avengers that the kill on sight orders do apply to you as well.” Ross sounded smug, that son of a bastard. As if the Avengers actually took orders from him or reported to him. Last Steve had checked Ross was neither the president, nor the attorney general. Ross was just there, as a mediator for the less important things. Ross and his orders couldn’t stop him from protecting Bucky. 

There was no chance in hell that any of the Avengers were going to kill Bucky. If it meant standing between them and Bucky, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Steve was not letting Bucky die on his watch, and he wanted Ross to _burn in hell_ for suggesting such a thing. Bucky, who had already suffered so much—because Steve just _hadn’t reached farther_ —was not going to suffer under the hands of another group of people.

He took a breath. Counted to five. Internally cursed when that didn’t work.

“We?” Steve pointedly asked, voice getting louder, ignoring the distasteful tone that Ross had addressed him with. He wanted to know who else was behind the order. He knew the FBI, CIA, and numerous similar agencies all around the world had the command to kill, mainly because of Ross and his negotiations (read: manipulations) but to hear that others supported this independently… that didn’t sit well.

“The UN is in full agreement with these orders.”

Steve took another deep breath as soon as the UN was mentioned and considered his words. On the other end of the earpiece he was wearing, he was already getting yelled at for the one word question. Between the scolding and Ross’s words, suddenly, the breathing didn’t even make a dent. He could feel himself charging up, letting out anger that had been stewing for a while, longer than this conference. There wasn’t a chance that he was going to play this the way he always had; as a deferential, good little soldier who listened.

So, for the first time since he had been defrosted, Steve removed his earpiece and crushed it. Stared at the minuscule pieces with a blank satisfaction. Let the pieces fall to the ground. Steve saw red. 

He ignored the sharp intakes of breath from all around the table and the gasps from both Pepper and Darcy.

“General Ross, is the United Nations, an intergovernmental organization dedicated to maintaining international peace and friendly relations, authorizing an order to kill on sight a prisoner of war who was held for nearly seventy years, the longest of any POW ever?”

He heard at least Tony, Sam, Jim, Clint, Natasha, Wanda, and Pietro curse softly. Several sets of eyes bore into him, but he ignored all of that. Steve was just getting started. 

“If the answer is no, then let me ask if you, General Ross, Secretary of State to the United States of America, are responsible for authorizing a kill on sight order for an _American_ prisoner of war. One, nonetheless, who is a hero to this country for his actions in World War Two being instrumental in the defeat of numerous Hydra-affiliated bases and people.”

This time, he heard people from Ross’s team curse quietly as well. Everyone knew where Steve had gotten his words from; they were printed in every other history textbook. 

Ross didn’t answer. Steve’s jaw clenched.

Ross’s right-hand henchman—Steve had forgotten the name/title of the stupid job and the name of the person—answered instead. “That information is not–”

Steve cut him off. “Not what? Am I not allowed to _know_?”

“Captain Rogers, if I were you, I would watch my language in front of—” General Ross advised, and Steve had to bite back a retort telling him to watch himself.

“General Ross,” Steve all but spat out the rank, “Are we not allowed to know? Or do you not want to tell us? Isn’t it practically the same when I don’t want to tell you Dr. Banner’s location? Even if we did know it.” Fuck, it had been a while since he had used that patronizing, mocking tone.

“Ca—”

Steve’s eyes flashed fire as he let go of the self-imposed restraints holding him back. “Wrong. General Ross, if I were you, I would watch my six every second. I _will_ find my answer, and when I do, even Johann Schmidt will look saintly.”

“Is that a threat, Captain?” Ross asked.

He smirked dangerously, eyes burning with a fire that radiated from his body in tension and adrenaline. “ _Captain_ _America_ doesn’t make threats, haven’t you heard? Captain Rogers, on the other hand…” Steve winked, and then ended the holographic conference.

He sunk back into his chair, letting go of the nasty, slimy feeling that had poured over him just then. Instantly, his smirk dissipated into a blank, calm look that was his default when he was boiling hot with anger. Bucky had always said that Steve had multiple levels of anger, and that once something crossed even normal Irish tempers, he became a little lethal machine. Now, Steve wasn’t so small anymore, but the machine; that had never been more true.

Steve silently stood up and methodically began to leave the room, seeking out the comfort of a punching bag to bring him back down to a healthy, untensioned self. It was the longer of two methods to calming down, but it wasn’t like he could go the shorter route, could he?

“JARVIS, do not let Cap leave this room,” he heard Tony say amidst the frantic talking that had enveloped the room once he shut Ross up. Oh, maybe they were trying to talk to him. He didn’t mean to tune them out, but Steve was seeing a lot of red.

The doors closed right in front of him, and Steve whipped around, glaring at Tony. Staring straight at the engineer, he cooly said, “JARVIS, open those doors.”

“Sir has explicitly forbidden it, I am sorry,” JARVIS said, not sounding like it at all. Red, red, red, red, everything was _red_.

Steve stared at Tony still, until a plan formed in his mind. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he turned around again, and took a few steps back. He pulled the shield off his back and, at an angle, hurled at at the crack between the two doors, where they met. The force was strong enough to widen the gap just enough that he could slip his hands in and push them apart. His arms strained against the pressure that could crush him if he didn’t carry this out right. Within a minute, though, they were widened just far enough that he could slip out and grab the shield.

So he did, letting the doors slam together behind him. That had taken some of the edge of; the strength needed to push them apart was mind-numbing.

The doors suddenly opened behind him, and he turned around, staring blankly at the assembled Avengers in front of him. Tony had a gauntlet on already, and everyone looked prepared to fight him. Steve fought back an urge to bitterly laugh. They were all red, red as blood, red as a never-ending fight. 

“Captain,” Thor addressed. “This is not like yourself. Are you well, my friend?”

“JARVIS, let me use the elevator again,” Steve said, turning around and disregarding Thor. He knew that Tony would have instructed the AI to keep him locked in, but they didn’t understand how _locked in, locked in, locked in,_  was the worst thing to do when he was like this. He had to get rid of the energy. Everything was all red. 

“Sir has forbidden me to do so.”

Steve didn’t bother turning around. “Tony, open the elevator.”

The elevator here was the only way to get between floors in the Avengers Compound, which was where they were. It was the only place where they fielded calls from Ross, and did full-field training whenever Steve had deemed it necessary to do some full team training.

No one did anything. Fuck, couldn’t they see the red? He was shaking. Somewhere, distantly, he was aware that he was shaking. 

“Tony,” Steve slowly repeated, “Open the damn elevator or I will hurl myself out that window. I just need—”

“As much as I’d like to see you try, Cap, they’re all protected with enough electricity to knock you out,” Tony said.

“Incapacitate,” JARVIS corrected. “There is someone at the front entrance of the Compound. They are armed with one sole Glock and thirteen knives, but they are also sitting at the entrance with what appears to be a normal pencil.”

Steve knew exactly who that was, and he couldn't believe the perfect timing. The damned pencil; how could he not? Now, more than five seconds ago, he needed that elevator open. Downstairs was _relief_ , downstairs was a reprieve from red, downstairs was something he needed to see right now and they were not going to stop them.

“Let me go downstairs,” Steve sharply said, turning around again, glaring down everyone. He made sure his tone left no room to argue. “Let me do it.”

“Steve, you’re clearly compromised,” Clint said. “Sit down.”

“Who is it? Do you know who they are?” Pepper asked.

“JARVIS, use my one-time only override. S-P-A-N-G-L-E-S-7-4-P-I-E-1-9-1-8-U-S-A. Take me downstairs and let the intruder in,” Steve resolutely said, watching everyone’s faces go slack with shock. He had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the only time some of them would be surprised. “Don’t follow.”

Tony knew him well enough not to argue there. “I’m pulling a visual up, then. Everyone’s watching.”

Then, for the first time in this entire day, Steve smiled, though dangerously. The doors opened for him. He stepped in, feeling the adrenaline course through his veins. “You might not want to.”

The elevator ride took him all of ten seconds, but he was dying to get out already. As soon as it dinged opened, Steve was out of it, and at the entrance already. He knew that everyone was seeing this right now, and recognizing the intruder as Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, but he didn’t care. _Bucky_.

As soon as Bucky stepped inside, Steve knew that Bucky—memory loss or not—knew exactly what was happening. He let Bucky’s sharp gaze fall on him, let the pencil spin in Bucky’s right arm as a symbol of asking if Steve was sure, let himself grab the pencil away from Bucky, let it fall to the floor, and let Bucky take the reins, looking him right in the eye.

This was a bad idea, when everyone was watching, but Steve hadn’t ever felt more careless, reckless than he ever had before, like the surge of adrenaline shooting through him at the mere sight of Bucky here, on his own volition, was addicting enough by itself. Steve let himself be enraptured for the first time in a long while, let himself have _hope_. 

Let them all watch. Let them all see. Let them all realize he had Bucky come back to him, for the first time in a lifetime too long. Let them all never forget that this was Steve, two different halves of two different hearts that no one had seen whole, that might as well have been a myth for how fleeting they lasted. Let them, for all he cared now that nothing mattered more than his presence, his return, his choice to be here. 

Bucky pushed Steve so that his back hit the wall with a surprising force that made him groan a little. He let himself be lifted higher off the wall, so that his legs were straddling Bucky’s hips and let Bucky pull their bodies a little closer.

Steve kissed him, hot and filthy, for the first time in seventy years, and found something else that didn't change. Though they had invariably kissed other people since the last time they had been together, and picked up a few new tricks, Bucky still tasted like Bucky, smoky and spicy and something that he couldn't describe but was just so addicting. Bucky was forcibly prodding into Steve’s mouth, biting and sucking and tasting, and Steve was letting him _take take take_ and letting him in. He always did, on instinct, always throwing caution to the stars above when he was with Bucky in stolen moments. 

But it was just that, _stolen._

The elevator dinged open, and several fighting Avengers rushed out to fight Bucky. Steve simply glared as they all did a collective double take. He wanted to have this conversation after, not before. There was still so much tension he wanted, so much he needed—

Steve instantly willed a picture of Fury in full drag queen makeup to get rid of a slight problem.

“I don’t quite think that anyone put ‘being the Winter Soldier’s powerbottom’ down as your sole secret scandal, Cap. Hell, I don’t even think anyone put down ‘angsty hookups/fuckbuddies’ down. The closest was Darcy, maybe, saying that you and Barnes were romantically involved,” Tony rambled on, putting down his hand. It was already aimed towards Bucky and charged, but thankfully, Tony put it down. Steve kept on glaring at Tony until he powered it off, as well. 

Everyone hated his eyebrows of disappointment? They hadn’t seen anything yet. Only person to have seen Steve like that was standing right in front of him. But Bucky shot Steve a look and put Steve down as Steve simultaneously untangled himself with Bucky.

“We thought you were going to be killed, Captain,” Wanda apologized, retracting her red ( _red_!) streaks from the air, and putting her arms down. “He pushed you, and we feared for you.” 

“The only thing getting killed is the virginity pool,” Clint muttered underneath his breath, though that didn’t stop neither him nor Bucky from listening. Super-hearing was a curse and blessing. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?” he asked, in the driest, most incredulous, scoffing tone Steve had heard in a while. But his voice was less raspy, maybe because he had been using it more. Hopefully Bucky had talked to someone since last Steve saw him, since the last few days. 

“Don’t,” Steve growled, glaring down everyone before they say anything either. Not now. “Let me go. Let him go.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Tony scoffed, “I don’t know what’s happening with you right now, but I’m not trusting your judgement right now. And that’s the Winter Soldier, if you haven’t noticed. You—” 

“I swear on my own _name_ that if you don’t let me go with him, I’ll—” Steve suddenly thought of something. “JARVIS, I’d like to use my Moment of Silence.” MoS was the other override each Tower resident had to avoid the entire day, despite if the world was ending. It was more of a protocol in place for everyone to feel better, but no one thought they’d use it. 

Until right about now. 

“I want the rest of this day,” Steve darkly said, and walked in the direction of the elevators, knowing Bucky was right behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe I have to add another chapter? I just couldn’t leave it like the way I had originally planned it to. Oops. 
> 
> Please do leave a comment! 
> 
> love, m x


	7. realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I said six, and then I said seven, but it might be eight just because I can’t let go.

**+2. realization**

Steve woke up in a cold, empty bed, naked and just a little sore everywhere. Without turning his head or even opening his eyes much, he flung his arm onto his nightstand, blindly reaching for the shirt he knew had landed on there. There was nothing on the stand; it must have fallen somewhere else. He sighed, padded his way to the bathroom and slipped into the shower, feeling the nice hot water pour over him. Steve sighed contently as the water helped alleviate some of the soreness—not that he was complaining—that was definitely a product of last afternoon. And last night.

He was in the middle of washing his hair when Steve realized that he had fucked up drastically. Not only did he out himself, out his relationship, out the fact that he had talked to Bucky before, and snap at the other Avengers in his dark state, Steve also managed to dramatically tarnish Ross’s reputation of him as the one remaining reasonable Avenger. Thinking about it though, Steve found that he didn’t really care. Actually, something in him felt lighter than it had in years. Even thinking about the aftermath that would occur once he went downstairs didn’t drag him down.

It felt good; not caring. Keeping secrets wasn’t something he did by nature, but by necessity, and now that the walls had all fallen down… he didn’t want to put them all back. A weight to be the perfect human had lifted from him.

Steve felt the corners of his mouth lift, and don’t stop smiling even after JARVIS announced a meeting downstairs.

——————

Steve walked into yesterday’s conference room, a challenging look in his eyes and a smirk on his face. Everyone, not to his surprise, was already there and waiting. Bucky, still unsurprisingly, wasn’t, and now Steve really didn’t know where he went. He doubted that any if the Avengers would let Bucky leave, so he must have still been lurking somewhere. As soon as he shut the door behind him, Steve made a show of sweeping his eyes across the room and then frowning.

“Jarvis, where’s Bucky?” Steve asked.

“The Winter Soldier,” JARVIS carefully said, enunciating the moniker carefully, likely a product of some coding, “Is currently in holding surveillance. Voluntarily.” The AI quickly added the last word on, as if already predicting Steve’s response.

“If you can, tell him he’s a dumb fuck who took all the stupid with him,” Steve said.

There was definitely amusement in JARVIS’s voice as he replied, “Of course, Captain Rogers.” One of these days Steve was going to learn just _how_ JARVIS had more personality than some humans.

Satisfied, though still concerned, Steve looked at the rest of the room again, most of whom weren’t looking amused. He still had the smirk on his face as he simply stood there, waiting for someone to say something.

“Steve,” Tony finally said when he realized no one else was going to do it, “Sit your star-spangled ass down before Wanda makes you.”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure thing.” He took the only empty chair, at the end of table with Tony on the other end, and then did nothing else. He could play a long game and wait them all out when they were the ones with questions. 

“Steve,” Pepper started off, consummate professional as ever. She definitely had experience dealing with unsavory situations, so Steve wasn’t surprised. Nearly nothing fazed Pepper. 

Tony looked overjoyed. “For once, can we all just appreciate the fact that it wasn’t me?”

“Tony,” Pepper sharply chastised, before pulling on a warm face again and looking at him. “Steve, I know you know everything I could say about the meeting with Ross. Just… don’t threaten him again?” She let a small smile come onto her face as she looked down momentarily. She looked up at him again, with slight approval in her eyes as she said, “Blatantly or violently.”

“Boss lady’s right,” Darcy piped up. “But that was seriously the hottest thing ever, Cap. You threatening Ross and taking him down with the questions is something straight out my dreams. He was not prepared for that.”

She saw Pepper’s scathing look, and then cleared her throat. “But, uhm, yeah, please don’t do that. Or at least get it approved beforehand, so the rest of us aren’t gaping fish. It looks bad on image and whatnot. We’re going to be on shitlist for a while, that’s for sure.”

Like they hadn’t been on that list ever since the team had formed.

Maria took this as her time to talk. “There won’t be field-related repercussions if Coulson and I play our cards right. We’ve been preparing for a possibility like this for a while. The other agencies won’t be taking Ross’s alienation or ostracism orders too seriously.”

Phil just nodded along, already on his phone and probably doing damage control there already. Or he was just playing another one of the mind-numbing games again. Steve couldn’t tell from here, and Phil had a dry poker face like no other.

“Okay, I royally pissed off Ross,” Steve summed up, holding up a finger. Holding up a second finger, he added on, “Damage control has been done.” With his ring finger in the air, he asked, “So what is number three?”

Before anyone could say anything, Tony cut in and asked with a wave of his hands, “Hey, is it me, or does Cap sound snarkier than I am?”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony and said, “Tony, I’ve been _snarky_ for longer than you’ve been alive, doubled.” He looked down at the sleeve of his henley and picked off a piece of dust. “And I’m clearly not here to be reprimanded, for yesterday, strangely, so why am I here?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce mouth, “What did we miss yesterday?” to May, who seemed like she had been told, but not quite believing until now.

Also out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jane whispering something to Thor, who was trying his hardest not to say something out loud and disrupt. Actually, it seemed like there were many side conversations running, full of mouthed words, small gestures and expressions. Steve rolled his eyes. Well, something hadn’t changed at least.

“Cap, you’re definitely here to be reprimanded,” Tony said, not even trying to respond to his comment, “Consider this an interrogation. Better than the one at the Hill.” He paused. “Well, not for you.”

“It’s not an interrogation where I’m not getting asked anything,” Steve helpfully pointed out, looking at his sleeve again. “At least they asked me things.”

“That wasn’t the first time you saw the Winter Soldier,” Natasha bluntly cut in, steely eyes piercing his face, assessing and surveying. There was no trust in her face, and Steve… he felt a small stab of regret at losing the trust he had built up in the past few years. A larger part of him dismissed that regret; it wasn’t as if she shared all of the things she had done and did. She’d understand quickly, and if she didn’t, well, that would be fairly hypocritical, wouldn’t it?

“Fifth,” Steve honestly said, because he wasn’t heartless. “Eight if you count the two times before he pulled me out of the Potomac.”

Sam frowned at him. “Steve, that’s seven.” His frown suddenly deepened. “Wait a second, are you telling me you called off the search because you found him? Was that number eight?”

Using his pinky, Steve rubbed something out of the corner of his eye. “Two plus one plus five.”

“Steve, you’ve had contact with the Winter Soldier for almost four months and you—” Sam started to scold him, looking like an incredulous parent.

“He’s had contact with me. All eight times,” Steve corrected for the record. 

“Like that’s any better,” Clint muttered, rolling a pen between his hands and looking over on Phil’s phone all the while. Steve didn’t let the nonchalance and the silence fool him; he knew exactly what they were doing and refused to fall for it.

“Oh Lord,” Steve said, “I’m so sorry that I didn’t want to see Bucky in a cell again. So sorry that I didn’t tell any of you when I knew all that was going to happen was either him being caught or me being quarantined.”

“Again?” Kate asked softly, picking up on the one detail he had slipped.

“Dúr rialtas,” he muttered, because of course they had expunged his arrest record, and Bucky’s. Couldn’t let the public know just who Cap and his Sergeant were, after all. _Stupid government._

And there went all of his calm. Steve counted to five silently, blinked once, and felt his heart rate go down again. Carefully, he let a hint of his previous smirk show through. He _wasn’t_ going to care about this, either. It didn’t matter, right?

“Again?” Kate repeated expectantly.

Steve met her eyes and evenly—albeit a little bitterly—said. “Again.” He wordlessly dared her to ask why. She didn’t rise to his challenge, and instead retreated a little back into her chair.

He should have also glared at Maria, who asked, “A jail cell?”

He flickered his eyes to the former Deputy Director with a calculated annoyance and responded, “Well, I didn’t mean the type that Dr. Ross and Dr. Banner sometimes study.”

“Are we in a different universe where Steve is a teenager stuck in that All-American beefcake package?” Tony incredulously asked, gesturing with his hands wildly.

“Tony, your interrogation questions need improvement,” Steve piped in, smirking for real. Thank god the diversion tactic had worked. “And here I thought that you told me this would be better than the Hill.”

“See? This isn’t you!” Tony exclaimed.

“It isn’t?” Steve blinked innocently, making sure to lay the charm thick enough that his sarcasm would be evident. Too often he had played the innocent, only to be _actually_ believed.

“You’ve been replaced by like, another dimension’s Steve. Because the Steve I know—,” Tony started.

“Is what?” Steve asked amusedly. “Is naive? Innocent? Unfailingly benign? Dumb? Straight? Silent? Perfect? Old-fashioned? Conservative? Agreeable? Is what, Tony?” There was no anger in voice, just plain taunting and challenging. No one said a single word, and oh, all eyes were on him. 

He raised an eyebrow. “I think the Steve you know doesn’t sound like a person, but rather some kind of a caricature character. If only there was a reason why that sounded so familiar.” He got up from his chair and walked towards the door. Before he opened it, he said, “Whenever you want to do the interrogation right, instead of asking me ridiculous things and having twenty people reading my body language, call me.”

He was almost out the door when May called out, “Happy Birthday, Steve!”

————————

“His what?” Tony asked as soon as the door was closed, staring at Aunt May.

Aunt May shut her eyes tightly and then opened them with regret on her face. “I knew I was forgetting something important today.” She sighed. “If only I remembered earlier.”

“It’s his birthday?” Betty quietly asked, looking at everyone else at the table nervously.

“Oh god,” Pepper sharply exhaled. “Oh my god.”

“But his certificate…” Coulson started, before trailing off in thought. “Doesn’t it say the Fourth of July?”

Pietro ran out the door for a second, and then ran back in, holding a few papers in his hands. “These are Wanda and I’s papers,” he presented seriously. “Written down a month before we came here. Steve is old, no? America or not, perhaps having papers back then was not very important. His papers may have easily been written when he became Captain America. They didn’t keep track of these things like we do now.”

Tony frowned. “If that was the case, then wouldn’t he have tried to tell us already?”

Clint’s eyes widened as the pen in his hand stopped twirling. “He did. The first time we threw him a party, he thought it was a prank. Why would anyone think that a party on their birthday was a prank?” He paused for dramatic effect. “If it wasn’t their birthday, that’s what.”

Sam looked at Clint, at the door, and then back to everyone again. “The army rewrote Steve’s birth certificate? That’s fucked up, man. Fucked up.”

“That’s why you were asking for cakes,” Darcy said, looking at Aunt May with sudden realization. “That makes sense.”

Aunt May looked defensive. “I thought you were all joking,” she scoffed. “With the July thing. I would have told you before that it was today, but I didn’t know you meant it until yesterday. And even then, Steve was the one to tell me you really believed it. Tiredly.”

“Aunt Peggy never mentioned…” Sharon started to say in the midst of her shock.

“He blocked off lab access for Bruce, Tony, and I last year yesterday at this date,” Jane suddenly said, recalling something. “He blocked off lab access today too.”

Darcy snorted. “Can’t blame him there, for wanting a stress-free birthday.”

“We shall plan Friend Steve’s birthday party,” Thor solemnly said, correctly incorporating the phrase for the first time. It’s Jane and Darcy flashed approving smiles at him.

Aunt May shook her head. “Bad idea. Tried that, it won’t work.”

JARVIS’s voice came on. “Sir, Mr. Parker is requesting access to the conference room.”

“Let him in, J.”

“Hey everyone!” Peter’s energetic voice greeted as the door—Steve must have somehow locked it—opened and he entered, fresh-faced. “JARVIS said there was a meeting today, and to come down here once I ate?”

He looked around and down frowned at the empty chair. “Hey, where’s Steve? Did his birthday vacation start already?” Aunt May looked down into her lap and secretly smiled a little proud. There was no mistaking the familial resemblance there.

“You knew?” Wanda asked, surprised.

“About his annual one-day vacation? Yeah, Steve told me during training once,” Peter said. “Apparently it started when his mom faked the death of his Great Aunt Laura to take him out to Coney Island when he was five.”

“He _told_ you?” Coulson blinked, incapable of believing that the quiet Captain would just reveal something like that.

“Well, I asked when his birthday was, and then he stared at me, and then he told me when it was. I asked what he did to celebrate it, so he just told me,” Peter explained, feeling a little self-conscious right then. “Sometimes I’ll ask Steve questions when we’re doing something a little risky so I can get my mind off the fear.”

“A little risky?” Tony squawked in disapproval. “Do I have to tell Steve to stop scaring you?”

“No!” Peter exclaimed. “That’s… no. Don’t embarrass me like that. He just thinks I’m nervous, not scared. Steve’s like, my role model.”

Tony clutched his heart like he’d been shot. “Replaced by Cap! By my own mentee. Quick, Pepper, save me.” Pepper just rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

“You’re my mentor slash idol slash whatever else. And besides, Cap’s not my role model, Steve is,” Peter corrected.

“They’re the same person.”

Peter frowned. “No they’re not. Steve’s a million times better. Cap’s cool and all, but Steve’s smart and sarcastic AF.”

“What?”

“Well, Cap’s like a figurehead, so it kind of makes sense that he’s not as cool as... wait a second, did you think Cap _is_  Steve?” 

“Well, he is.”

”No,” Peter frowned again. “Steve’s Cap, but Cap’s not Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there has to be an eight chapter or I’ll feel haunted. Oops?
> 
> love, m x


	8. peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ta-daa!

**+3. peter**

He was in the kitchen, quietly making himself mocha mousse when very familiar footsteps caught his hearing. Steve continued to fold in the egg whites carefully, thinking that Peter was just there to grab breakfast or something. He paused when Peter just stood a few footsteps behind him and then didn’t move. What was the teenager doing, watching him?

“Do I have something on my back?” Steve casually asked, snapping Peter’s attention, and the silence.

“Uh, no.“ Peter said, lost in thought. “Oh, I was staring, wasn’t I?”

“No worries. Come join me,” Steve said, vaguely gesturing with his elbow to the spot next to him. “Grab the whipped cream.”

He heard the sound of a bowl being moved, and then saw Peter hold the recently whipped cream gingerly, before placing it on the counter. He still seemed like he was thinking too hard about something.

“Peter? Everything okay?” Steve asked, pausing with the egg whites again.

“Yeah, I just… I’m really sorry if I ever treated you like you weren’t a person,” Peter apologized, before looking at the whipped cream with interest. Steve rolled his eyes when Peter used his pinky to swipe some of it.

“Like I wasn’t a—you were talking to the Avengers, weren’t you?” Steve asked, understanding where this came from. He chuckled lightly, thinking how ironic it was that the one person who never did that had apologized.

Peter looked a little sheepish. “I thought they kept joking,” he admitted. “I didn’t realize that…”

“I know,” Steve said. “It’s nothing new. I knew what I was getting into when I stepped in, and I knew what was going to happen once I said yes to Senator Brandt. I was used to it, and as long as I could do my job, I didn’t care. It helped that I had a few people who knew the difference.”

He held his hand out for the whipped cream, now that he was done folding in the egg whites, and then swapped bowls with Peter. The teenager put the empty bowl in the sink, and then stood where he was right before, next to Steve.

“What about now?” Peter asked, obviously picking up his slip into the past tense.

“What about it?” Steve asked, trying to deflect.

Peter was too smart for that. “You said you were used to it.”

“Well,” Steve dryly started off, “I woke up seventy years in the future.”

Peter groaned. “Oh my god, you can’t keep saying that to not answer. That’s a dick move.”

Steve cleared his throat loudly. “Language.”

“Oh great, Steve, you’re making fun of a teenager. Are you happy now?”

He snorted loudly as he folding the whipped cream into his mousse while waiting for Peter to say what he was going to say next. Though Peter deserved to hear that he was a good thing in Steve’s life, he felt that was a too cheesy thing to say.

“No, but seriously,” Peter said.

Steve didn’t know how to answer, or if he really wanted to.

“You know,” Peter quietly said, “You’re the only one here who doesn’t treat me like I’m a baby?” 

Steve snorted. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re a sixth of my age.”

“Not like that. But, even though you’re careful, a little too much careful, you treat me like I’m not not an adult. You tell me things, and you explain things without patronizing me. If I ask something, you’re the most likely to actually consider my request. Even if you say no, you thoroughly explain it in terms that don’t mean ‘because I said so’ or ‘because you’re too young’ or anything of the sort. It’s nice, you know? They listen to you, most of the time.” 

“I feel like I’m being emotionally manipulated,” Steve said, “And I’m still not going to ask May and Tony to let you officially join, but thanks.” He was momentarily distracted by a rustle of wind and what he thought was a footstep, without any others. Great, was he hearing things?”

“So?” 

“Menace. Well, I lost whatever small control I had over Cap’s image, and then, there was no one that could separate the man from the character, besides Peggy, and she sometimes didn’t recognize me at all,” Steve sadly smiled. “Which is a much more depressing answer than what I said before. Thanks, Peter, for that sad note.”

“You’re the one who said it,” Peter said, sticking his tongue out childishly.

Steve rolled his eyes and then looked proudly at his finished mousse that now needed to be chilled. He hadn’t been sure if it was going to work, but it did. “Are you surprised that the guy who lived through the Depression gives depressing answers?”

“That’s the saddest dad joke I’ve heard,” Peter flatly said, trying not to smile.

“Good thing I’m not your dad,” Steve said, stepping around Peter and placing the bowl of mousse in the freezer.

“Okay, you keep trying to throw me off of the conversation,” Peter accused, crossing his arms. “Stop that. I want to know why.”

Steve went to wash his hands in the sink. “Mmm, it sounds a lot like you want more depressing answers. Today’s a great day, you know.”

“Steve,” Peter glared.

He sighed. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I don’t know what you want to know.”

“Why haven’t you ever corrected them?” Peter asked. “Or told them?”

Steve dried his hands off and then turned to face Peter. “You’re assuming I haven’t tried.”

Peter threw his hands up in the air. “Steve!”

“I feel like I’m your dad,” Steve muttered. Louder, he answered, “Perceptions, assumptions, estimations.”

Peter didn’t say anything, he just tried to shoot Steve a disapproving look.

Steve smiled at the feeble attempt. “For seventy years, the government, the army, and the media have brainwashed the people to believe that Captain America stands for freedom, justice, and the American way.”

Peter interrupted, “That’s Superman, he’s not even real!”

Steve ignored him and continued, “It’s all that people have heard, all that people have believed, all that people have been taught from their parents, grandparents, schools, workplaces, and everywhere else. Suddenly, Captain America, the American man’s man, comes back from the dead and is supposed to be this jingoistic, propaganda-spewing, conservative, old-fashioned guy who supposedly is disappointed in the new world… because that’s what everyone is saying. Everyone pushes those onto me, and they don’t stop to think that hey, the guy under Cap may think differently. They believe that I believe what Cap does, because they think, oh, he was Cap, so Cap is based on him. Captain America in an idol, a role model, a figurehead, and recognizing that a man is underneath all that is also recognizing that Captain America is just an imperfect man rather than a perfect soldier. People don’t want to think that; people don’t want their leader to be flawed; people don’t want the foundation to break or chip or crumble. There’s this image to hold up to, yeah?”

Peter asked, “So why don’t you actively try to prove them wrong?”

“I–when I woke up, the world was different, and I was trying to adapt,” Steve started off. “Captain America already had a place written in the new world, and I went with it, trying to find myself in the meanwhile. It was easier playing along than fighting it. For every mistake I tried to fix, there were fifty more that overwhelmed me. I should have fought it harder, and that’s why I don’t blame the world for overlooking it. They’re not going to listen, at this point anyway. And actively antagonizing a bunch of people makes the team look bad, and the Avengers need approval to keep fighting without someone leashing us and preventing us to do what we need to. There’s a lot of stuff involved in why I don’t and can’t. Yesterday, with Ross, was probably the first time I haven’t gone along with the what the government said this century. I think yesterday, I stopped caring about what everyone thought. I mean, I’m also making chocolate mousse at an odd hour and unloading my life onto a teenager, so maybe I’m not making the best decisions right now.”

Peter laughed, though he looked incredibly sympathetic and saddened.

“Hey,” Steve said. “Things aren’t so bad. Food's a lot better; we used to boil everything. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful.”

That did the trick; all of the sadness and sympathy vanished from Peter’s face. “You say that to everyone!”

Steve grinned cheekily. “Oh come on, you think this old guy’s got more than a few lines?”

“You’re crazy.”

“Oh, you’ve noticed now? I signed up for the serum program, how crazy and stupid do you think people needed to be to do that?” Steve rhetorically asked. “Besides someone has to lighten this up, and you’re just trying to get me to spill my life secrets.”

“Your life is sad, Steve.”

“Only if I make it,” Steve said, and then he paused. “Now I sound like a self-help book. See, this is what happens when I talk about myself.”

“Right. You totally sounded like a self-help book in the story where you accidentally befriended a drag queen and then charmed her into smuggling you into enemy territory,” Peter said. 

“See, now you’re pulling the weight,” Steve grinned. His grin promptly faded when he heard footsteps and hushed whispers.

Peter noticed, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You know, I don’t think I asked you what exactly you talked about with the Avengers,” Steve carefully said, giving them the perfect entrance into the conversation. 

“I guess we owe you an apology,” Tony said, as many of them came into view. Steve didn’t bother to face them.

“Not what I’m looking for, sorry,” Steve replied, checking to see how much time had passed since he had out it in the freezer. Twenty minutes. Just an hour and ten minutes longer. 

That had not been the answer any of them were expecting, and Steve knew it. Even Natasha looked stunned, with her raised eyebrow. Peter looked like he wanted to either tell Steve he was an asshole or like he wanted to desperately leave. 

“What are you looking for?” Tony asked.

“Nothing you can give me,” Steve honestly responded, eyeing the dishes in the sink distastefully. Making good desserts almost always took more a few different bowls and spoons and whisks. He sighed and began to start doing them. 

“Steve, this is what people nowadays call being an asshole,” Peter said.

He silently, and quickly, whipped around and threw a plate at Peter’s crotch area, having learned that Peter was more likely to catch it if it aimed for there, rather than his face. Somehow, it seemed that Peter didn’t really care about being hit in the face. Steve was going to find out why, one of these days.

“Steve, what the fuck,” Peter asked, bewilderedly holding the plate clumsily in his hands.

“Don’t underestimate him,” Steve merely said, tipping his head over to Peter and turning around to continue the dishes. He winced slightly when he realized he hadn’t shut off the faucet in the minute he had thrown the dish at Peter. With a free hand that he didn’t really have, he pointed back to Peter for a second. “Don’t underestimate yourself.”

He couldn’t see anyone’s faces, but the silence in the room was damning. “There’s mousse in the fridge that’ll be good in an hour and three minutes.”

“Steve…” Peter whispered.

“It’s not forgiveness, it’s not amends, it’s not anything but food,” Steve clearly stated, placing the wet bowls and utensils in the dishwasher just so that it could catch anything he didn’t. He dried his hands off with the towel from before.

“Let me know if I remembered the recipe right from a guy in art school,” Steve said as he began to leave, prepared to spend the rest of the day with Bucky. He smiled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that’s the end! :)


End file.
